


Silences

by aphreal



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: Several years in, the royal marriage is beginning to crack under the strain of too many obligations and too much time apart. After one too many caustic jokes and one too many evenings with an old friend, the rifts can no longer be ignored.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexia walked slowly down the hallway that would take her by the study where the Bannorn negotiations were happening. 

Of course, officially, the negotiations didn’t start until that evening, in the throne room. This was simply an informal conversation over drinks after lunch. And anyone who believed that lovely fiction didn’t have a hope of surviving in Bannorn politics in the first place. 

Parth, one of the banns involved in the meetings, was currently holding a grudge against Alexia over some petty disagreement with Fergus. Foolishness, but not worth adding another complication to the already touchy land disputes. So she’d left Alistair to handle these pre-negotiations on his own. Which he was entirely capable of doing after five years on the throne. 

But even so, it wouldn’t hurt for her to stop by and check in. 

The door to the study was partially cracked, probably left unlatched by a servant bringing drinks who would need to enter again with full hands. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Alexia paused by the gap, hoping to overhear enough of the conversation to have a sense of how things were going and what she would need to be prepared for later. 

She didn’t have to strain to hear the voices on the other side of the door, booming and jovial, all of them male. Another reason Alexia had thought it might be best for her to sit out of this after-lunch gathering. The laughter struck her as a good sign; finding common ground on even trivial matters should ease the negotiations once the difficult questions arose. Wanting to get a better sense of the direction of the conversation and the forming alliances, she lingered, trying to make out words. 

“My compliments on the brandy, your majesty.” A pause for a drink, followed by a sigh of contentment. “I’m surprised you got the queen to allow something so strong this early in the day.” 

“Pah!” And there was Parth, his scorn at the mention of her reinforcing Alexia’s decision to absent herself from the gathering. “I don’t see the Cousland girl around anywhere to say what the king can or cannot do.” 

“There we have it.” Alistair sounded dry, weary. “An afternoon free from the old ball and chain, and I can drink what I like.” 

The men laughed, chiming in with their own stories of henpecking and overbearing wives. Alexia stood frozen at the doorway, listening well past when she ought to have gone, and every burst of familiar laughter, every dry observation or frustrated huff, hit like a dull blow. Bruising rather than fatal, but sure to cause a hurt that lingered. 

She’d heard men talk about wives this way, of course, but she’d always imagined those were arranged marriages, poor matches that suited the families more than the participants. She’d never imagined her own husband would talk about her that way. That Alistair could think of her that way. Did Alistair really think of their marriage as an obligation, a prison? Had he come to resent her that much? He’d been distant in recent months, always so busy and tired as the pressure of ruling took its toll. All of which could be laid at her feet for forcing him onto the throne, saddling him with a host of responsibilities he’d never wanted. 

Another bark of familiar laughter, followed by a jest she tried not to hear, something about feeling like a mabari let off the leash for a few hours. She blinked away tears that couldn’t be there, selfish, foolish tears unbecoming a Cousland or a queen. 

She could do nothing about the obligations of the throne; it was far too late to change that. But if he wanted some space, some freedom from her constant, overbearing presence, that she could provide. 

Turning away from the door, shoulders back and hands carefully not clenched, Alexia nearly walked into a servant arriving with a tray holding - oh, yes, look at that - another decanter of brandy. The woman bobbed a hasty curtsey, which Alexia tried to accept graciously. 

“Can you pass on a message for me?” 

A startled blink. “Of course, your majesty.” 

“It’s not worth interrupting the meeting, but when they’re finished, would you tell the king I’ve gone to check in at Vigil’s Keep? Tell him that I’m confident he can handle the Bannorn negotiations on his own, since he’s clearly doing well without my input.” 

The servant looked wary, but she nodded. “I’ll tell his majesty what you said, highness.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate your assistance.” 

Letting the woman return to her task, Alexia strode down the hallway at a quick pace. If she hurried, she could be packed and away before he even knew she was going. Before she had to look him in the eye with those words ringing in her ears. 

.

Arriving at Vigil’s Keep, Alexia felt like she could breathe again. Shedding the gowns of court for her familiar platemail, she settled into the routine of serving as Warden-Commander. Her days were filled with scouting patrols, training sessions, and unguarded conversations. She could be herself at Vigil’s Keep, could speak her mind without worrying how her thoughts might be used against her or who her words might hurt. 

Her evenings, once the reports were read and the correspondence written, were usually spent in casual, late-night chats with an old friend. Nate had always understood her, and they shared common history, reminiscences that provided a comfortable escape into memories of a simpler time. Any pain she found in those memories was the dull sort, wounds of loss long healed over into scars of grief that twinged but no longer incapacitated. On nights when the reports and correspondence kept her occupied late into the night, Nate was content to sit in the Commander’s office with her and share the work. He insisted it was his responsibility as her trusted lieutenant, and she never tried too hard to deter him. They rarely spoke on those nights, but the silence of a room with Nate not talking was far more comfortable than the emptiness of one that held nothing but echoes of her own thoughts. 

As the days stretched into weeks, Alexia remembered more and more how Nate had always been someone she could trust, someone who knew her thoughts well enough she didn’t have to struggle to put them into words. Being with Nate was easy, safe, and she treasured that simplicity right now. 

.

Nathaniel smiled into his mug as Alexia punctuated a story with a broad sweep of her hand, probably less steady and more exuberant than she intended. The cider had gone to her head tonight, inspiring laughter and openness. The flush on her cheeks suited her, as did the wide smile and sparkling eyes. Evenings like this, full of conversation and companionship, had been something he dreamed of as a youth, when he expected to inherit the arling and hoped to have Bryce’s headstrong daughter for his arlessa. He sometimes felt like these nights had been plucked from the Fade, his longings made manifest. 

Sitting in his mother’s favorite study in his childhood home, it was easy to think nothing had changed in all of the years that had passed. Spending the evening talking over drinks from the family wine cellar, it was easy to imagine he was still the noble he had been born and raised as, arl after his father and grandfather before him. Smiling and relaxing with Alexia Cousland, it was easy to remember there had been a time when he had loved her and planned to marry her. 

Alexia leaned into his personal space to share a confidence, and it was the easiest thing in the world to close the remaining distance, to kiss her. 

She stiffened at the contact, and Nathaniel questioned his rash impulse. He moved to pull away, constructing an apology in his head. Before he could begin to set his mistake right, Alexia leaned in, pressing her lips more firmly to his, and all thought vanished from his mind. 

Her mouth tasted of cider, sweet and intoxicating. She clutched at his shoulder, holding him close, her tight grip just short of painful. Alexia’s desperate need spurred him on. She drew a shuddering gasp when their lips parted, and he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, undoing the buttons at her collar to expose her throat to him. Alexia tilted her head back, giving him access, and her whimpers encouraged him to continue. 

Her eyes were tightly shut, and she bit at the inside of her lip. Nathaniel couldn’t help wondering what sounds she was holding back, emerging only in those soft, desperate whimpers. Maker, she was beautiful, her rigid control cracking under his mouth and hands. How long before it shattered altogether? 

He slipped free the remaining buttons of her arming jacket, exposing a linen shirt underneath, so thin he could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric. His hands settled at her waist, the hem of the shirt riding up to expose skin, soft and warm against his palms. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he made a guttural noise in his throat as he sucked on a sensitive spot beneath her ear. Unable to resist seeking more, he slid his hands further beneath the fabric, reveling in the feel of her skin. When he hesitated, unsure if this had gone too far, Alexia arched her back, pressing closer against him, and that was all the permission he needed. 

One hand at the small of her back and the other sliding up her ribs, Nathaniel leaned her back onto the couch, following her down, desperate to maintain contact. It was awkward and graceless, but that hardly mattered. He ended up propped on one elbow, hovering over her with her breasts grazing against his chest with every breath. His mouth sought out her throat again, revisiting the places that made her gasp or whimper, and his hand explored further under her shirt. Alexia clutched at his shoulder blade with one hand, the other fisted in his shirt where she had caught a grip for purchase when he shifted their positions. Her leg hooked over his calf, holding him close against the full length of their bodies. Groaning, Nathaniel ground against her - he was hard, had been hard - eager and fumbling, feeling like an untried virgin with the first woman he had ever desired. 

As his questing mouth reached her collarbone, Alexia’s hand slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him up for a long, passionate kiss. When the kiss broke, she buried her face against his neck. His pulse leapt in anticipation before he realized her uneven breaths were strangled sobs rather than eager gasps, and her cheeks were wet with tears. 

Nathaniel rolled to his side, cradling her against him on the too-narrow couch, desire eclipsed by concern. “Lex, what’s wrong? Tell me I didn’t hurt you. What’s going on?” 

“We shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” Her voice came out hollow and broken, the first words she’d said since he kissed her. “I’m using you and betraying him.” 

His fantasy shattered, and reality crashed in through the haze of the alcohol. This wasn’t his childhood friend, the girl he had dreamed of marrying, hoped to make his arlessa. She was his commander and queen, another man’s wife. His actions had been utterly selfish, thinking only of his own desires, and he had no right to hurt her like this. 

He would have moved away entirely, giving her space, but she remained close, forehead pressed against his chest as she shook with silent sobs. Stomach twisting with guilt, he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, a feeble apology for his transgression. “I’m sorry, Lex.” 

“For being the first person in months to care about what I need?” 

He winced at the raw pain in her voice, the bitter resignation. “I’m sorry that I am, yes.” 

Nathaniel gingerly disentangled himself from her and eased off the couch, standing and offering her a hand. “Come on, let me get you to bed.” 

She froze, her arm partway extended towards him, a look of panic on her face. 

“Alone, Lex.” He sighed, hating himself for having created that fear in her. “I only meant that you need to rest. If you had enough to drink that this seemed like a good idea, even momentarily, then I don’t envy the headache you’ll have in the morning.” 

Grimacing, she allowed him to pull her to her feet with a brief murmur of thanks, then drew her jacket closed, focusing intently on redoing the buttons to avoid meeting his eyes. He let her have the space without comment, waiting until she was composed, physically and emotionally. 

He walked her to her room, the two of them passing through the familiar halls in silence. What was there to say? He couldn’t imagine how he would begin to make up for this betrayal of her trust, but any words he found tonight would be woefully insufficient. From her tense, hunched shoulders and clenched jaw, he wasn’t sure she would have heard anything he’d said anyway. 

Alexia paused at her door, her hand extended towards the latch. With a tiny shake of her head, she turned to face him, shoulders slumped and face weary. She stepped forward into a hug that caught him by surprise. “Thank you for always being such a good friend, probably better of one than I deserve.” 

Before Nathaniel could even begin to think of a proper response to that - she was thanking him? now, after what he’d done? - she released him and stepped back, still never quite looking him in the eye. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Good night, Nate.” 

As the heavy wooden door closed behind her, he heard Alexia let out a strangled sob, sounding broken and heart-wrenching as her composure finally shattered in the privacy of her room. 

Flinching at the sound, knowing that he had caused this and hating himself for it, Nate spun and pounded his fist against the stone wall. He used the side of his hand, not hard enough to break anything, but the jolt of pain provided a welcome distraction. The spike of endorphins faded quickly, taking the remaining buzz from the cider with it, leaving him feeling hollow and empty. Sick with despair, he leaned his head against the wall beneath his arm. Maker’s blood, he’d screwed up. 

After all these years, all of the idle fantasies and hopes, Nathaniel had never thought he’d regret finally kissing her.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexia returned to Denerim far sooner than she’d planned, leaving the next morning. She couldn’t possibly stay at the Vigil after that, the guilt for what had happened - what might have happened - eating her alive from the inside. She had to go home, to face the consequences. She needed to confess. 

Alistair was in a meeting when she arrived, despite the late hour, and as much as she hated waiting any longer to have things in the open, she could hardly interrupt the work of the kingdom with her stupid moment of weakness. Instead, she went to his private study, leaving word asking him to join her there at his soonest opportunity. Alexia sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, folded her white-knuckled hands in her lap, and deliberately did not pace like a caged animal. She took deep, even breaths to slow her racing heart, and she waited. 

Some unknown time later, the door banged open, and Alistair strode in, face creased with concern. The sight of him, achingly familiar and yet somehow painfully distant, caused her stomach to clench, filling with nauseating guilt for the pain she was about to cause him. 

His frown deepened as he caught sight of her. “What’s wrong? Is there a problem at the Vigil? The Architect or Mother coming back? Maker knows you can’t trust darkspawn to stay dead properly.” 

Alexia shook her head, forcing words out. “This isn’t about Warden business.” 

She watched his expression change, gears turning as he shifted direction. “Another rebellion in Amaranthine?” 

“No. Nothing… nothing like that.” Alexia twisted her fingers together, trying to stay calm. “I need to talk to you. Not as Warden-Commander or Arlessa of Amaranthine or even Queen-consort. Just as… as your wife.” 

His sudden laugh felt like icy water thrown in her face, abrupt and unexpectedly painful once the initial shock passed. “That’s why you came back? You had Robin pull me away from a meeting because you want to talk?” He shook his head with a disbelieving smile that cut into her. “I miss you, too, but that has to wait for later. Business before pleasure and all of that noblesse oblige sort of thing you nobles are so big on.” 

She struggled to regain control of the situation. “It can wait for a few minutes, can’t it? Please?” 

“Ah, Lexia…” He sighed. “It’s tempting. Maker knows I’d rather see you than the ambassador. But Ferelden’s needs have to come before my own, I’m afraid.” 

The explanation sounded rote, not sincere. Those were words someone else had put into his mouth. Words she had put into his mouth by forcing him to become someone he’d never wanted to be. Maker, how far back did her apologies need to go? 

“I’m glad you’re back. There’s something else scheduled after the ambassador, but I may have a break after that. We can talk then.” He turned to leave, his eyes distant, thoughts already moving to what awaited him in the reception with whichever ambassador she was keeping him from. Alexia couldn’t let him walk out that door. 

“Alistair, I nearly slept with Nate.” 

It came out in a rush, a broken confession. She’d thought this conversation through a hundred times on the road, and she had never intended for her words to be so harsh, so bare. But they were spoken, and there was nothing to take them back now. The world froze, and she held her breath, waiting for a response as everything in her world narrowed down to Alistair and she tried to read any reaction from the set of his shoulders obscured by a heavy fur mantle. 

Slowly, he turned back to her, and she felt the weight of his gaze, of him truly looking at her for the first time since he’d come into the room. His face held shock but not the outrage she expected, the blame she deserved, only heartbreak and bitter resignation. 

“So you finally realized you made a mistake. You married a bastard prince with no idea how to be a king or a husband, and now you’re going to find a real noble.” 

“No…” Alexia gasped, short of breath like his words had driven the air from her chest as effectively as a shield bash. “Never, Alistair. I don’t want him. I want you. I _love_ you.” 

He shook his head slowly, weariness etched into every deepening line of his face. “The ambassador is waiting. I need to go. It will be a late night; you shouldn’t wait up.” 

Alistair turned and left the room without even looking back. 

Numb and hollow, not knowing what else to do, Alexia did as he’d suggested, retiring to their too-large, empty quarters. The servants made no comment on the queen coming to bed alone and in tears. They didn’t even seem particularly surprised. Had this become so common as to be expected? How had they come to this? 

.

Alexia woke up hours later, the night dark and still. She rolled over to discover Alistair’s side of the bed empty and cold. Climbing out from under the covers, she pulled on a wrap over her night shift and went looking for him, wandering through empty rooms under the curious gaze of the silent palace guards. 

It was Kaz who finally guided her, leading her through the corridors on his softly padding feet, down to the kennels. There, she found the king of Ferelden sitting on the straw-covered stone floor with a mabari cuddled to his side, looking like nothing so much as a lost little boy. 

Heart breaking and sick with guilt, Alexia crossed the room to him, straw crunching softly beneath her fur-lined slippers. He didn’t look up at her approach, and she wondered if he even heard her slow footsteps. Reaching his side, she knelt down slowly, careful to leave some space between them. He would hardly want her getting too close when he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her. She stretched out a hand to bridge the gap but pulled it back before touching him. She had no right, and what comfort could her touch offer him at the moment? 

Alistair didn’t raise his head, but from the tension in his shoulders, she knew he was aware of her presence. She spoke gently, trying to keep her tone neutral and soft. “You should sleep. Go up to bed.” She didn’t bother to keep the tremble from her voice. Her hiding from him was what had gotten them to this place where she never wanted to be. “I won’t come if you’d rather I didn’t. It only seems fair, since I’m the one who…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t say the words aloud. From the way he flinched, tensing at the reference, it was clear she didn’t need to. Alexia closed her eyes against the tears she had no right to shed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “You shouldn’t have to sleep somewhere else.” 

He didn’t answer for a long time, sitting with his head bowed, motionless except for the hand mechanically scratching behind the ears of the mabari leaning its head against his knee. Finally, as Alexia was becoming convinced she had been wrong to intrude on his refuge and should leave, he raised his head and spoke. “No, you should come to bed, too.” He turned his head enough she could see his face in profile, slack with fatigue and weary resignation. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards into the barest hint of a wry, bitter smile that held no joy or mirth. “I’ve spent enough nights there alone.” 

.

Back upstairs in the royal chambers, they lay down in silence on opposite sides of the overly large bed. Alexia felt numb, weighed down by the cold distance. The space between them felt insurmountable, an empty expanse of untouched linens. Lying on her side, one arm pillowed under her head, she stared helplessly across at Alistair, his back firmly turned towards her. The pattern of his breathing told her he wasn’t asleep, but she let him pretend. She’d done the same more times than she could count, on all of the nights when she didn’t want him to see her crying herself to sleep. He had never challenged her false sleep then, so she accepted the lie now, one more tiny deception in the wall that had built up between them. 

After an uncertain length of time lying awake in the darkness, Alistair abandoned the pretense of sleep. “Why?” His voice was soft, not an accusation but a genuine question, full of hurt and confusion. 

Alexia swallowed hard, fighting back a sob of relief at having him open a line of conversation. She owed him a real answer, if only she knew what it was. Helpless, she started with simple truths. “I missed you. I feel like I’m losing you. He was… there. He listened. It was stupid.” 

She bit the inside of her lip, tasting blood, and clutched at the linens, resisting the urge to reach for him. No matter what she tried to pretend, the contact would be for her comfort, not his, and she had been selfish enough already. 

Alistair rolled over to face her, incredulous and the slightest bit angry. “So it’s my fault?” 

“No, of course not.” She raised her head, shocked, trying to explain. “I didn’t mean --” 

He cut her off, voice raising from a confused whisper to forceful accusations. “How can you miss me? _I_ haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve been right here, while you’ve been pushing me away, running off to Amaranthine, shutting me out. Lexia, I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m not sure I can give it to you, whatever it is. Not if you won’t let me in.” He sighed, anger evaporating to be replaced with pained resignation. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you should stay at Vigil’s Keep, with someone who understands you.” 

He was giving up on her, on them. Heart breaking but unwilling to force her presence on him after betraying him and hurting him, she forced out words that she could barely speak. “Is that what you want? For me to go?” 

“Flames, no.” He collapsed onto his back, head hitting the pillow with a dull thump, staring up at the ceiling with dry eyes. “But I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy, Lexia, and I don’t think I can give you that any more. If I ever could.” 

“You did. You made me so happy.” Alexia felt the tears finally spill over, running across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek to soak into her pillow. “For a long time, you were the only thing that could.” 

He turned his head, meeting her gaze with a weak, sad smile. “What happened?” 

A choked sob escaped as she answered. “I decided I had the right to make decisions for you, and I put you on a throne you never wanted.” 

An odd grimace crossed Alistair’s face before he shook his head. “It was after that. We were okay for a while.” 

She responded with a sad smile as she thought back to the early days of their marriage. “We were more than okay.” 

“Yeah, we were.” Alistair reached across the empty expanse of the bed to rest his hand over hers, and she swallowed a grateful whimper at the gesture, the contact. Alexia turned her hand over to twine her fingers with his, and they lay unspeaking, silent and wary in this tentative contact. 

After a long moment, Alistair’s faint smile faded, and he sighed. “So what happened? Where did we go wrong?” 

Alexia’s fingers twitched, clutching harder to his as she shook her head against the pillow. “I wish I knew.” 

“Can we…” His voice choked off. He sounded vulnerable, scared, and Alexia hated herself even more for bringing them to this. “Can we try to figure it out?” 

Alexia took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift from her chest. A tentative smile came to her face, even as her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “I’d really like that.” 

.

Alistair resumed the conversation abruptly the next morning, raising the subject out of nowhere while he was shaving. “You said Nathaniel listened.” His voice held a bitter edge, and he remained occupied with his task, eyes firmly fixed on a mirror rather than her. “Maybe that’s because you were talking to him.” 

Startled, Alexia lowered the hairbrush she’d been running through her hair. Ignoring a guilty twinge, she tried to deny it. 

He cut her off before she could even formulate a sentence. “Damn it, Lexia.” He slammed down his razor on the basin, turning to face her, his glare hard despite the traces of foam clinging to his face. “If we want to fix this, I need you to stop lying to me.” 

Stung, she pushed back her chair from the vanity and stood, brush clenched in her hand. “I’ve never lied to you.” 

He laughed, mocking and angry. “That doesn’t mean you’re telling me the truth.” With a frustrated growl, Alistair gestured aimlessly, hand waving vaguely at the bed. “All of those nights, sleeping next to you, listening to you sobbing into a pillow and being scared to ask why. Because I didn’t know if you’d lie to me if I did. So I let you keep your secrets and drift a little further away each time.” 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the last of the soap and his anger, leaving him looking bleak and weary. “I just kept trying to be a good king, because maybe I could get that part right, even if I couldn’t figure out how to make you happy.” 

Alexia’s anger dissipated, and she released her tight hold on the brush, tears prickling at her eyes again. Now that the facade had started coming down, she didn’t seem to be able to stop them from flowing. “It was never your fault, any of it. I didn’t tell you because it was nothing you could have fixed.” 

“So you decided not to even let me try?” He shook his head, voice pained and frustrated. “We promised this would be a partnership, Lexia. Stop shutting me out.” 

Blinking back tears that threatened to overflow, Alexia took a deep breath and tried to put words to the pain she’d spent so long hiding. “When we started this… I knew you could learn to be a king - and you have; you’re amazing, love, whether you realize it or not. But I’ll never be a proper queen. A queen has one purpose, after all. One I can never fulfill.” Her voice quavered. “Every time I’m at court, everything here reminds me of the one thing I can’t do. All of the helpful advice and sidelong glances and poisoned whispers that I’ll never be good enough.” 

“That’s the problem?” Alistair’s expression hovered somewhere between disbelief and anger. “All of this is over not having an heir? Lexia, we knew from the beginning that we couldn’t. If that’s the big secret… It’s not a secret. Why would you hide that from me?” 

Trembling, her breath came out in a sob. “Why didn’t you ever let Eamon replace me? I’m sure he wanted to.” 

He rocked back on his heels as if she’d struck him, his voice coming out with a rough, hard edge. “I’m not Cailan.” 

“Of course not.” She shook her head, trying to explain, to take away the sting. “But you’re the king, and you need a proper queen.” 

“Aside from the fact that I’m a Warden, too, even if I don’t get to run off to Amaranthine and act like it…” He reined in the sharp edge, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. One hand clenched tightly, like he wasn’t sure what else to do with it. “It doesn’t matter; I don’t care. I never wanted a queen. I only wanted you. That’s not changing.” 

The room fell silent after his stark confession, almost a plea. His eyes fixed on her with an intense sincerity she wanted to flee from, a love she couldn’t possibly deserve. 

There had been a question in that, one Alexia couldn’t quite identify or answer. “You make it sound so simple.” 

“Couldn’t it be? For once, can’t something be straightforward? It would be a nice change.” With a wistful smile, he shrugged, spreading his arms the tiniest bit, his hands turned upwards, the barest hint of an invitation. 

Alexia accepted it gladly. Forcing her leaden feet to move, she crossed the few steps to collapse against him, her breath escaping in a sob of relief as his arms came up around her. Alistair rested his cheek against her head, and she was enveloped in his warmth and the scent of his shaving soap, comfortable and familiar and home. She had forgotten how good it felt to be held without the wary tension of guarded secrets, to trust him with her heart and her self. Maker, it had been far, far too long. 

Things couldn’t possibly be this easy. The rift she’d created wouldn’t be mended in a morning, or even a week, but was nice to pretend for a little while that it might be, to splay her hands across his broad back and press her face to his chest and feel connected and accepted and loved. 

“No,” she whispered against his shoulder. “It won’t be simple. But it’s worth the effort. _We’re_ worth the effort.”


	3. Chapter 3

They made the time after that, driving the Chancellor to distraction with blocks of time non-negotiably carved out of the royal schedules. There were private lunches, afternoon interludes strolling in the gardens or sitting together in the library. Alexia didn’t even consider returning to Amaranthine - or leaving Denerim at all. The weeks bled into months, marking the longest span of time she had spent at court since being appointed Warden-Commander at Vigil’s Keep. 

Along with remaining physically present, she struggled to close the emotional distance, too. She stopped holding back, stopped trying to be strong in front of him, and admitted to Alistair how unhappy she had become. How much she had always wanted children, how she longed to build a family with him to replace the one she had lost. How she wanted to give him a child, not as an heir but as the family he had never known and always craved. How long she had spent dreading the moment when he realized she would never be able to fill that need, never make him truly happy. 

She shared the aching loss and the irrational fears that had consumed her for years. And she found that somehow, once it was out in the open, the pain still hurt, but it no longer felt so all-consuming or crushing. When Alistair took her hand or brushed away the tears she was ashamed to let fall, she started to believe, just maybe, that they could get past this. Not only her lapse with Nate, but the rift that had brought her to that point. 

As they spent time deliberately together, she remembered how Alistair had always brought her laughter, how his smile made her feel precious. As they rebuilt trust and rediscovered connection, she couldn’t escape the realization that being with him - allowing herself to be truly present and open - was surprisingly easy. Even when they hit unexpected sore spots, when the conversation turned awkward or bitter, being with him was far easier than building a wall to keep him out. 

Alexia marveled that she had forgotten how much she loved simply being with him. She wondered how they had lost the ability to talk to one another when that was what had brought them together in the first place. And she delighted in the gradual reforging of those bonds as they found one another all over again. 

.

With a sigh, Alexia set the Warden dispatch on the small desk and rubbed at her eyes, tired and out of sorts. She had barely seen Alistair all day, again, exchanging brief smiles and words of commiseration in passing. She’d had lunch with a pair of arlessas and spent the afternoon hosting a salon for a handful of banns’ wives. Not an unpleasant day, but a tiring one, maintaining civility among feuding factions. 

The Bannorn had erupted into yet another set of petty land disputes, barely six months after the last set had finally been settled, and the ongoing series of tedious negotiations had consumed nearly all of Alistair’s time for the past fortnight. Alexia idly considered having the crown annex the entire region and carve it into a new arling or two; that would stop all of the bickering over who owned which pastures by taking away everyone’s claim and good riddance. Of course, the satisfaction would be short-lived; the Landsmeet’s outraged response to such a tyrannical decision would be more of a headache than the current Bannorn politics. Probably. 

She’d brought the Amaranthine dispatch pouch with her when she retired to their quarters for the night, hoping to keep herself awake reading until Alistair came to bed. But she’d exhausted that tactic, reaching the end of the pile, and her eyes were beginning to feel grainy from staring at cramped handwriting in dim candlelight. Time for bed, then, and the best she could hope to see of her husband today would be a kiss on the cheek in apology for waking her when he came to join her there however much later. 

Alexia tidied the sheets of paper back into their pouch, then rose from the desk. Standing, she tightened the sash on the robe she wore over her nightgown, smoothing the soft pale blue fabric. After a few months at court, she’d started to remember how pleasant some of these little luxuries could be. Fine-woven bed linens, rich fabric garments, a pastry chef. She could have arranged for similar at Vigil’s Keep, of course, but those pleasures felt out of place for a commander in a fortress. In Denerim, however, she could indulge without guilt in a few of the luxuries expected of a queen. 

She turned down the lamps that made the room just bright enough for reading. As she reached the last one, the door opened unexpectedly, and Alistair entered. Her heart leapt, and she didn’t even try to fight the smile that spread on her face as she crossed the room to meet him. “What happened? I thought you’d be in with the banns for hours yet.” 

“I called off early for the night.” He shrugged. “I told them I was tired of coming to bed after you’re already asleep. I’m going to forget what color your eyes are if I only ever see them closed.” 

A warm feeling spread in her chest, at war with the political calculations happening in the back of her head. “I can’t imagine what Parth thought of that.” 

“That I prefer your company over his. Which no one with any sense would question.” Alistair took a step closer, raising one hand to stroke her jawline, tilting her head up. He rubbed his thumb in an idle caress over her cheek as he gazed at her, studying her face with an intent reverence she could hardly withstand or deserve. Standing here, with her hair down, bereft of her armor - both literal plate and the formal garments of a queen - Alexia felt uncomfortably vulnerable, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the modest triangle of skin showing at her throat. 

“What are you doing?” Alexia hoped the dimmed lamps wouldn’t shed enough light to reveal the blush she could feel coming to her cheeks, and she wondered how, after all of these years, Alistair could still fluster her so thoroughly with something as simple as staring into her eyes. 

“I’m remembering what color your eyes are.” Soft and simple, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “You are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and Maker’s breath, I am a lucky man.” 

Alistair’s hand slid to the back of her neck as she leaned in. This kiss was sweet and gentle, the reverence and openness of their initial explorations combined with the comfort and familiarity of years shared. The moment lingered, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, her hand resting on his chest over the reassuring, steady heartbeat that always lulled her to sleep and comforted her from nightmares. 

When their lips parted, Alexia couldn’t bear to have space create distance between them. She nestled her face against the side of his neck, breathing in the scent and warmth of him. A tear slipped from between her closed lashes, and she exhaled a long, shaky sigh, realizing just how much she had missed this. She rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers running along his neck, jaw, and cheek, idly exploring and re-mapping familiar territory. “I’m glad you cut the negotiations short tonight.” 

“So am I.” His voice was a soft rumble under her hand, a breath against her cheek. 

“Should we talk?” For all of the conversations during lunches and walks in the garden, she knew there were things that remained unsaid, and perhaps she could finally find words for some of them in this moment, surrounded by his warmth and love.  

“Yes, we definitely should talk. After.” 

Alexia raised her head to look at him. “After what?” 

His answer was a wolfish grin. “Your eyes aren’t the only thing I’d like to get reacquainted with tonight.” The grin faltered. “Since we have the evening to ourselves, I thought, if you want...” 

“Very much so.” 

A tilt of her head was all it took, and his mouth was on hers again. This time the sweetness was tinged with passion, the gentle exploration of fingers more bold. Reassurance and rediscovery of a different kind. 

Alexia’s fingers ended up at his collar, toying with the heavy fastenings on the rich fabric. When the kiss broke, she pulled back far enough to smile at him, basking in the mixture of heat and amazement in his eyes. “My turn first.” 

She undid the series of buttons holding closed his heavy doublet, the stiff formal fabric parting to reveal a soft, worn linen shirt beneath. When she pushed the doublet free to drop carelessly on the floor behind him, she could feel his muscles beneath her hands relax, as if the embroidered, fur-trimmed garment sat heavier on his shoulders than armor ever had. 

Running her hands up his chest, savoring the feel of him, warm and solid, beneath the linen, Alexia smiled contentedly. “Much better.” 

“Really?” He drew the word out, a teasing smile lingering on his lips. 

Alexia gave in to temptation, leaning up to kiss that smirk before answering. “Yes. This feels more like you.” She loosened the laces at his collar by feel as she continued placing kisses on the exposed skin of his throat. “Also, it’s not fair you being fully dressed when I’m already changed for bed. I’m evening things out.” 

He laughed, soft and joyous and surprised, the vibration of it pleasant against her lips. “By all means, continue your quest for parity.” 

“I plan to.” She couldn’t tell if his hum of approval was in response to her words or her nip at his collarbone as the shirt collar finally parted, but the difference hardly mattered. 

Gradually, with pauses for tender kisses and soft laughter, the rest of the clothes were dealt with, and they made their way across the room together. Alexia hesitated perched on the edge of the bed, worried for a moment that she might be making a mistake, using physical intimacy to avoid talking about the things that still stood between them. Then a playful tug pulled her tumbling down onto the mattress and into the arms of her husband. 

Laughing and protesting, she nestled against him and remembered that their lovemaking had always been like this. Even from that first night, blushing and awkward, their time together was about discovery and connection, passion interspersed with laughter and vulnerability and trust. Tonight felt like that again, and Maker, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. How much she’d missed them. 

He’d been right; it was time for them to remember.


	4. Chapter 4

When Nathaniel received the summons to Denerim, he was relieved to put an end to the months of uncertainty, to finally be judged for his failings and pay the consequences for his mistake. 

He hadn’t seen Alexia since walking her back to her quarters that night. She’d been gone from Vigil’s Keep by the time he woke the next morning, leaving behind only a brief note for him to find. 

_Nate, I’m sorry. I know you’ll blame yourself, but don’t. Nothing in this is your fault. You remain one of the best men I’ve ever known. Watch the Vigil for me; I’m going home._ She’d signed it with simple initials, no titles or formality, and included a postscript he couldn’t help but smile at, despite the hollow feeling in his chest. _You were right about the headache. I’d appreciate it if you could stop being prescient about things like that._

The girl he’d grown up with wouldn’t have thought to try to make a joke at a time like that. He wondered if she was even aware of the change or realized where she’d picked the habit up from. 

Since then, there’d been no word from her at all, and he’d waited, tense and expectant. When the letter finally came, bearing the royal seal and ordering him to Denerim, he was almost glad to get it. Almost. 

He had been summoned by the crown to a formal, public audience, which was precisely what he hadn’t wanted. He didn’t care very much about his own reputation; he could hardly do worse to the Howe name than his father had done. While it might have been nice to spare Delilah and Patrick the knowledge that he’d taken up the family tradition of treason, the privacy he’d wanted hadn’t been for himself. 

There would be no way to accuse Nathaniel publicly without also implicating Alexia in his treasonous activity. A public audience for his punishment meant that she was likely going to be divorced - or worse - at the same time, and Nathaniel was sick knowing that he’d managed to damage her life so thoroughly through one evening’s terrible lapse in judgment. 

Upon arriving at the palace, he relaxed some at being shown to a comfortable guest room rather than a cell, then even more upon receiving an invitation to a private royal audience that evening in advance of the next day’s formal reception. Perhaps he would be given the chance to accept fabricated charges that allowed him to face appropriate reprisal while leaving Alexia out of it. 

Alexia herself met him at the door to the sitting room that night, the lack of servants unsurprising with such sensitive matters to discuss. Tension in his chest released at the sight of her, after weeks of worrying, but he ignored the urge to reach for her hand. He had no right to touch her, not even as a concerned friend. “Lex, are you all right?” 

She stared at him for a long moment without answering, a slight crease between her eyebrows as she looked him over. “It seems more like I should be asking you that. Come in, Nate. Sit down.” 

He took the indicated chair, watching with further relief as Alexia resumed her seat beside her husband on a small couch. Another good sign for her. The king didn’t make eye contact with him, and Nathaniel couldn’t say he was surprised. 

Gathering his thoughts and squaring his shoulders, Nathaniel broke the silence before it could become even more uncomfortable. “You asked to see me, and I am entirely at your majesties’ disposal.” 

Alexia glanced to her husband, who was busy making an intent study of the carpet, then took a slow breath and responded. “We thought it would be best to talk privately in advance of tomorrow’s ceremony. To clarify things that don’t need to be public knowledge.” 

So he was going to be given the opportunity not to drag her down with him. Another weight left his chest. By the time he stood for judgment tomorrow, he might be able to do it with his back straight and head high. “I welcome whatever advance knowledge you choose to give me.” It would help to know what he was going to be accused of so he could avoid looking surprised at the charges. 

Alexia spoke plainly. “Tomorrow, we’re going to appoint you Arl of Amaranthine.” 

“Very well, I…” Prepared for deserved punishment, it took him a moment to process what she’d said, that he was to be honored rather than arrested. “Why? Void, Lex, what did you tell him?” 

The muffled snort from the king might have been amusement. Alexia’s lips quirked into a hint of a smile before she took her husband’s hand and answered calmly and contentedly. “That I can’t continue trying to live two different lives. That I choose to be in Denerim, to be here. That we need someone we can trust running Amaranthine and the Vigil in my place.” 

Nathaniel struggled to adjust to the abrupt reversal. “I am truly honored, but I’m not certain I’ve earned that trust.” 

The king spoke for the first time, looking up but still not quite meeting his eyes. “Do you have any future plans to commit treason or betray Ferelden?” 

“Of course not, sire.” Nathaniel kept his spine straight, not finching under the deservedly unfriendly stare. 

“Then I’m going to take Alexia’s word when she says you’re the best person for the job.” There was warmth in his voice when he looked over at his wife and tenderness in the way he twined his fingers with hers between them on the couch. Nathaniel’s chest felt hollow, but at the same time it was good to see things mended. 

“You can probably expect to hear from Weisshaupt soon as well.” Alexia’s expression took on a calculating edge, political rather than personal. “I can’t officially appoint my successor as Warden-Commander, but I suspect they won’t want to relinquish the power of keeping the position linked to the arling.” 

“Congratulations in advance on the double promotion.” The king’s voice was dry. “I’m sure you understand why we’re keeping the circumstances surrounding it quiet. I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace if people get the idea that we’re rewarding treason with titles.” 

Nathaniel swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. “I’m truly sorry for wronging both of you. And I am grateful beyond words --” 

“Don’t.” The king cut him off, mouth twisted and lips tight. “It’s finished and behind us, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Sighing, he looked Nathaniel in the eye for the first time, his gaze hard but also weary. “If I were a better man, maybe I’d be able to forgive you, but I don’t think I can.” 

“I don’t expect you to.” Nathaniel met his eyes, every bit as unguardedly honest. "I won’t be forgiving myself for it any time soon.” 

The man nodded, seeming satisfied, and Nathaniel rose to leave, judging the audience finished. “Thank you both for this second chance to prove myself worthy of your trust.” 

Alexia’s soft smile held compassion and a kindness he could scarcely believe. “Good night, Nate. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

.

As the door closed behind Nate, Alexia gently squeezed Alistair’s hand, concerned by the thoughtful expression on his face. “Is something the matter?” 

He shook his head with a soft laugh, warm and comfortable and familiar, as his distant eyes refocused on her face. “I was trying to remember if I’ve ever heard anyone call you Lex before.” 

“Virtually no one does.” Alexia chuckled herself, relieve his preoccupation was something so simple. “It was a childhood thing. We all grew up together, more or less, Howes visiting Highever and Couslands going to the Vigil. Names had a way of getting shortened: Nate, Lilah, Lex. Fergus avoided it somehow.” No need to include Thomas, not then and certainly not now. “I doubt anyone even remembers besides the four of us.” 

“Fergus doesn’t call you that, though?” 

“No, he picked up Father’s habit of calling me pup instead.” She could smile at the memory, finally, the pain of loss dulled after enough years. 

“That sounds like a story I want to hear.” Alistair’s grin held eager anticipation of something to tease her about. 

“You’ve been around the kennels enough to know what mabari puppies are like: stubborn and scrappy with no idea how small they truly are.” Alexia sighed ruefully, accepting the number of minor embarrassments she’d have to confess to if she was going to explain this properly. “You have to remember, Fergus is nearly five full years older than I am. And I wasn’t particularly tall for my age until I was nearly grown, so he was always much bigger. Of course, you can probably imagine how often I ever let that stop me from trying to do whatever he could do.” 

Her words trailed off under the look Alistair was giving her, rapt attention tinged with amazed disbelief. She couldn’t imagine what she’d said to warrant that. “Why… why are you looking at me like that?” 

He smiled warmly, taking her hand again and leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Because you’re beautiful and amazing and I don’t know how I ended up lucky enough to be sitting here with you. I am entirely allowed to be in a perpetual state of being in awe of my wife.” 

Feeling her cheeks warm, Alexia laughed and gave him a scolding mock glare. “Why are you looking at me like that specifically now?” 

Alistair’s smile softened, and he raised a hand to her face, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “You never talk about your childhood. I’ve heard more about little kid Alexia in the past five minutes than the past five years.” 

She swallowed, her laughter dying as she turned her head away from that uncomfortable truth, the reminder of yet more walls she’d built up around herself. 

But Alistair’s gentle touch drew her up short, his fingers lingering on her jaw. “I was thinking how much I like discovering a whole new part of you, something else that makes up the woman I love.” 

Meeting his gaze, she saw nothing but acceptance and joy, and Alexia felt her chest loosen as one more bit of worry slipped away. She would always have the walls, but she could choose to let him inside. Leaning into his touch, she brushed a light kiss over his wrist, then straightened her head with a smile. “Want to hear about the time I broke my leg trying to race Fergus up a tree?” 

Alistair’s grin widened, and he leaned forward in an exaggerated pose of listening. “Proof that the unflappable, wise Hero of Ferelden might have had less than perfect judgment as a girl? This I have to hear.” 

Smiling, Alexia launched into the tale, not shying away from her own moments of foolishness or the bittersweet memories of how her father had cared for her afterwards. Alistair listened intently, and she let that relax and soothe her. This was the man she’d chosen to share her life with - the good, the bad, and everything in between - and he would love her for and through all of it. She only had to let him.


End file.
